


that afternoon with you, Chekov/Sulu, R

by blcwriter



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blcwriter/pseuds/blcwriter





	that afternoon with you, Chekov/Sulu, R

_  
**that afternoon with you, Chekov/Sulu, R**   
_   
  
  
_This is for the afternoon we lay in the leaves  
After it had been winter for half a year,  
And I kissed you and unbuttoned your jeans  
And touched you and made you smile, my dear.  
And of all the good things that love means,  
One of them is to touch you there  
And make you smile, among the leaves,  
And feel your wetness and your sweet short hair,  
And kiss your breasts and put my tongue  
Into the delirium between your soft pale thighs,  
Because the winter has been much too long  
And soon will come again, when this love dies.  
      I will hear sermons preached, and some of them be true,  
     But I will not regret that afternoon with you._

C.B. Trail, _Sonnet_

There was always a point where Sulu remembered—temporal loop, fucking mind-reading aliens—it never ruined that moment. That moment he always remembered somehow, because no matter what the bastards tried, no matter how often they played out the scenarios, it always worked out to one ending—or beginning, because then they always had to start over because they hadn’t succeeded. Again.

“Hi—Hi-karu!” the cry, torn deep from arched, pale ribs dappled with sun. Pink nipples were taut with cold and arousal, his smile broad with joy and his chest heaving, his flat-muscled pecs sweat-coated.

His fingers tangled in curls, the other hand gripped and tugged downward at denim, yanking and pulling to expose all that white flesh that called with the strength of memory lost that wanted regaining.

Pavel gripped, scrambled, complied—he pulled at Hikaru’s shirt, exposed their skin to the weak springtime sun and green leaves overhead, his grin and fierce eagerness making a smile crack out of Hikaru so suddenly he was sure there was noise-- like ice on a lake or something poetic.

He bent his head downward and tasted—for the first time and again, always first and again as long as this lasted until they came and took him away, made them part once again. For now, Pavel was his.

He licked the line of his thigh, slender and strong like a birch, watched the skin tremble like a breeze passing over their heads. He tasted the wet of his sweat, salt almost like tears. He looked up and took in the good of his smile and felt no regret, even as the sun began to draw low on the horizon. He bent back to his task, gathering Pavel more firmly into his arms.

\--

This was a comment fic I wrote for the battle _cum_ orgy post at Ship Wars at the [](http://st-respect.livejournal.com/profile)[**st_respect**](http://st-respect.livejournal.com/) this week for Team Chulu.

Yeah. I actually wrote another pairing than Kirk/McCoy. Shocking, I know. The prompt was "kiss, lick, hug, bite," and we were supposed to pick a poem, picture, or some other thing that prompted us to give some love to some other team.

Well, you know me. I'm a poetry whore, and this poem screamed Chekov/Sulu to me for whatever reason.  I haven't gussied this up from the original post.  I may come back and expand someday, maybe not.  For now, this is it.


End file.
